My I Love You
by Egon-Starcollector
Summary: Harry takes his daughter to the park. Pointless and cute. :)


My I Love You  
  
--by Egon Starcollector  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger (Potter) belong to J.K. Rowling. 'You Are My I Love You' copywright Maryann K. Cusimano. I just own Lily-Minerva.  
  
Author's note: I work in the children's department of my local library. Some months ago, I found myself enchanted by a very charming picture book called 'You Are My I Love You'--so enchanted, in fact, that I couldn't resist buying it (I'd like children someday, and this is definitely a book I want to read to them). It struck me yesterday that I could see Harry in this story, so I just had to do it. :)  
  
  
  
Harry was nudged awake by Hermione's elbow. "Fnf?"  
  
"Dear, it's Saturday. You're taking Lily-Minerva to the park, remember?"  
  
"Mmf--oh!" Harry jumped out of bed. The one person he loved as much as his wife was their daughter Lily-Minerva, who had just turned four. Harry loved being a daddy, and he made a point of scheduling as many father- daughter days as he could. Hermione did not object in the slightest; while she loved her husband and child deeply, she enjoyed having a day to herself now and again.  
  
First, of course, was breakfast. "Now here comes the Muggle plane into the garage," Harry cooed, making engine noises as he pretended to zoom the spoon of oatmeal through the air. Lily-Minerva giggled and opened her mouth eagerly to play "garage." "Mmm...nummy, huh?" She nodded, too busy chewing to answer. Lily-Minerva no longer needed her daddy's help to feed herself, but he found it was usually less messy this way.  
  
I am your parent;  
  
You are my child.  
  
I am your quiet place;  
  
You are my wild.  
  
"Daddy, go!" Lily-Minerva bounced up and down excitedly.  
  
"Hang on, honey! Daddy has to shave!" Harry said as he turned to her and pointed at his face. She squealed with laughter and clapped her hands to her mouth at the sight of his chin covered with shaving cream.  
  
"Daddy looks like Santa Claus!"  
  
"I hope I don't yet!" he laughed, picturing himself with a large stomach and white whiskers.  
  
I am your calm face;  
  
You are my giggle.  
  
I am your wait;  
  
You are my wiggle.  
  
"Daddy, can I have a piggyback ride?"  
  
Harry groaned inwardly. He was sore from Quidditch, and somehow crawling through the grass on all fours wasn't very appealing just then. "Well...."  
  
"Please?" She fixed him with her best puppydog look. All Harry had to do was see those huge green eyes--so much like his--with that look and he knew he was defeated.  
  
"Okay."  
  
I am your carriage ride;  
  
You are my king.  
  
"Higher Daddy, higher!" Lily-Minerva squealed as she soared through the air safely strapped into a swing.  
  
I am your push;  
  
You are my swing.  
  
"Watch me, Daddy!" Harry looked up in horror to see his daughter walking at what he deemed a perilous height on the jungle gym.  
  
"Honey, be careful!" he yelled as he raced to her side. *She definitely takes after me,* he sighed to himself.  
  
I am your audience;  
  
You are my clown.  
  
Lily-Minerva had met some girls from her daycare, and they had persuaded Harry to join them in a game. "London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is--oopsie! Mr. Potter fell in the mud!"  
  
I am your London Bridge;  
  
You are my falling down.  
  
"Dad-eee! I hate carrot sticks!"  
  
"If you don't eat your veggies, you can't have any candy." Harry had finally persuaded his little perpetual motion machine of a daughter to sit down long enough to eat the lunch Hermione had packed for them. However, Lily-Minerva had balked--as she always did--at eating her vegetables. She sat scowling, twirling her bushy brown hair.  
  
"I don't see why I can't have my sweets first. Maybe then I'd feel more like eating carrot sticks."  
  
"Nice try, young lady."  
  
I am your carrot sticks;  
  
You are my licorice.  
  
"Daddy, make a wish on the dandelion!"  
  
"Why? All my wishes came true!" Harry declared, pulling her into his lap for a hug.  
  
I am your dandelion;  
  
You are my first wish.  
  
"Daddy, if we go to the lake this summer, do I still have to wear those stupid things on my arms?"  
  
"Yes you do honey."  
  
"But why? I'm a good swimmer."  
  
"I know you are sweetie, but that's an awfully big lake. You're little yet, and your mommy and I don't ever want to lose you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because we love you."  
  
"How much, Daddy?"  
  
"More than chocolate frogs."  
  
"More than strawberry jelly beans?"  
  
"Way more." And at that, Lily-Minerva launched herself into her father's waiting arms.  
  
I am your water wings;  
  
You are my deep.  
  
I am your open arms;  
  
You are my running leap.  
  
"Daddy, looky here!"  
  
"Lily-Minerva, get out of the bushes," Harry moaned.  
  
"But it's a magic shortcut! I can see our house!"  
  
I am your way home;  
  
You are my new path.  
  
"You are filthy! Into the tub with you!" Hermione ordered the second Lily-Minerva bounded through the kitchen door.  
  
"But Mom-eee...!"  
  
"No buts! You're a mess!" Hermione declared, stifling her laughter.  
  
"Can Mr. Feathers come too?"  
  
"He's already there, wondering where you are," Harry told her as he came in from the bathroom.  
  
I am your dry towel;  
  
You are my wet bath.  
  
"Lily-Minerva Melissa Potter, this is the same argument we had at lunch. You didn't win that one either. Eat your peas, then you can have dessert," Harry recited in a monotone, pressing his fingertips to his temples. There had to be an easier way....  
  
I am your dinner;  
  
You are my chocolate cake.  
  
"Bedtime, sweetie."  
  
"Daddy, I'm not even tired!"  
  
"So why've you got those big bags under your eyes?" Harry teased.  
  
"Can't I stay up 'til eight?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Seven-forty-five?"  
  
"Uh-uh."  
  
"Seven-thirty?"  
  
"Not even seven-fifteen. NOW." Harry gave her a Look, and she marched reluctantly to bed knowing fully well her daddy meant business.  
  
I am your bedtime;  
  
You are my wide awake.  
  
"...And God bless Mommy and Daddy, and Uncle Ron, and Grandma and Grandpa Granger, and Grandma and Grandpa Potter, and Grandma and Grandpa Weasely, and Grandpa Black, and Grandpa Lupin, and Mr. Feathers, and Bobo Bear, and...."  
  
I am your finish line;  
  
You are my race.  
  
I am your praying hands;  
  
You are my saying grace.  
  
"How come they all live 'Happily ever after?' Don't they ever skin their knees?"  
  
"Um...."  
  
I am your favorite book;  
  
You are my new lines.  
  
I am your night-light;  
  
You are my starshine.  
  
"...If that pony cart breaks down, you'll still be the cutest little baby in town," Harry sang, his clear tenor voice wrapping around the last notes of "Mockingbird," Lily-Minerva's favorite lullaby.  
  
"Honey? Where'd you go?" he asked, pretending not to notice the lump under the blankets.  
  
"Peekaboo, Daddy!" she giggled.  
  
"Oh, you had your ol' dad fooled there for a second!"  
  
I am your lullaby;  
  
You are my peekaboo.  
  
Harry tucked the covers gently around his daughter's shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetie."  
  
"'Night Daddy. Daddy?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too, honey."  
  
I am your good-night kiss;  
  
You are my I love you.  
  
"Well?" Hermione asked, linking her arm through her husband's.  
  
"Asleep before I even got out of the room."  
  
"I thought so." Hermione squeezed Harry's arm gently, and they headed downstairs to have coffee and snuggle on the couch. 


End file.
